


1945

by dislocatedshoulder



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1940s, F/M, Historical, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Original Character(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dislocatedshoulder/pseuds/dislocatedshoulder
Summary: After the Second World War, times seem to be getting better. The fighting is over, the Great Depression is at a low, things are looking up. Now a veteran, Edward Smith is returning from months of war. He resumes his mundane lifestyle. Until he meets someone. Someone unique. Someone who will change him forever.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	1945

* * *

_December 1945_

* * *

The war was over. Germany’s cold clutch on Britain had been released. The city of London was alive once again. Air raid sirens no longer echoed through the desolate streets, it was now music. Happy, lively jazz seeping from houses and restaurants. And Edward Smith was back home. He watched the beautiful city, covered in shimmering snow, from his bedroom window. A pack of Lucky Strikes sat on the nightstand next to him, half-smoked. A cigarette butt lodged between two shaking, boney fingers. He put his cigarette out in the glass ashtray and reached to light another one. While grabbing for a small pack of matches Edward’s eyes glanced at the analogue clock sitting next to his pack of cigarettes. 20:42, it read. He sighed. Now that he was home he might as well take advantage of the safe room he was in. No more sleepless nights riddled with bombs and ambushes. 

Edward took off his thick, black-framed glasses and set them down. He’d forgotten about the cigarette he was going to light. He wobbled to his bathroom and glanced into the gold-framed circular mirror hanging above his sink. He looked like shit. Blue eyes sunken in, rimmed with opaque black eye bags. His cheekbones jutted out prominently, making him look somewhat like a skeleton. Having very little food in the war really did a number on his already thin body. Then he started to laugh. He wasn’t sure why. Nothing about his appearance was funny. He really did look like he’d been starved. But he was hysterically laughing. The insanity went on for a little longer until Edward finally collected himself. He brushed his teeth (Which he relished in, it was another luxury in the war) and left the small master bath. 

Jazz sounded like a good idea. Maybe it would calm Edward’s nerves, which were currently doing jumping jacks. He walked over to his record player, sifting through the small collection of jazz records he’d accumulated. He settled on some good ol’ Louis Armstrong. Louis’ deep, scratchy voice filled the quiet room. He had to get undressed to change into his pajamas, but something in the back of his conscience made him hesitate. Edward didn’t want to see what the war had done to his body. He already got a preview with his face, he couldn’t imagine how bad it could be with the rest. But sleeping in his uniform would be so unbelievably uncomfortable, so Edward had to push through. He reluctantly and slowly unbuttoned his beige brown coat, sliding it down his shoulders. Now he was clad in his uniform pants and a tight-fitting white T-shirt. Despite the weight loss he’d undergone during his enlistment, Edward had kept a surprising toned frame. He took a deep, shaky breath and reached for the hem of his white t-shirt, pulling it quickly over his head. Edward’s breath hitched when he glanced into the full-bodied mirror in front of him, which was resting against a tall dresser. 

Scars littered his chest and abdomen. Some small and thin, others turned to keloids, puffy and jagged. Edward couldn’t tell where he got all of them, but one stood out more than the others. A dark, angry scar that sat a centimetre above his belly button. He remembered a piece of German shrapnel dug its way deep into his belly, tearing his skin and muscle on impact. He remembered keeling over and falling harshly onto the rubble-filled street. He remembered hearing his friend, Lieutenant Robbins running to his side, shouting and waving for a medic frantically. Edward blinked away, shaking the memory back into the depths of his brain. The war was over, he shouldn’t ponder on it. Tired and mentally exhausted, Edward quickly removed his pants and changed into his pajamas, got into bed, and slept soundly for the first time since the war.

The next morning Edward woke to the shrill ringing of his alarm clock, blindly slapping around for the snooze button. It was too late for him to go back to sleep though, so he turned off his alarm with a defeated sigh and sat up in bed. As he rubbed his eyes Edward realised he wasn’t deathly tired, his head wasn’t sporting a killer migraine. He felt alive. That’s something that hadn’t happened since he’d been discharged.

Stretching his legs as he stood up, Edward reached for the pack of Lucky Strikes and the matches on his nightstand, shakily pulling a cigarette out of its box. He hadn't smoked when he enlisted, but God had he taken up the habit during the war. Every soldier smoked, if not to keep them awake, to keep them from having multiple panic attacks a day. Edward quickly became dependent on nicotine, which wasn’t an issue during the war, since he got a pack with his meal every day. It’s a problem now since he actually has to pay for them. 

Edward lit a match and held it up to the cigarette that rested between his chapped lips, he inhaled, exhaled and closed his eyes. Soaking in the comfort he received from the morning smoke. Puffing his smoke, Edward walked over to the window to open the shades. The city of London was awake with him. Cars were driving down the street his house rested on. Honking and yelling could be heard from every direction. Edward liked living in the city. It gave him a sense of normalcy in some way. He enjoyed watching others live their peaceful, drama-free lives. He took one last drag from his cigarette and dabbed it out in the ashtray. The cigarette butts were starting to pile up, considering he had smoked a little over half the pack the day before. Edward made a mental note to empty it and he made his way to his master bath. He was overdue for a shower. Edward stripped with haste.

  
Saying he felt a million times better after his shower was an understatement. He was clean and not tired. Two things he hasn’t felt in a while. He checked himself in the fogged-up mirror. The bags under his eyes had subsided a little bit, but he still looked like he had aged forty years in just a few months.

Before Edward made his way down the carpeted stairs of his flat, he grabbed his glasses and slipped them on his face. And now, his destination, the kitchen. His stomach growled in protest when he opened the refrigerator and there was nothing but a loaf of bread. “Fuck.” Edward chuckled to himself, he’d forgotten to go shopping. With this predicament, Edward had to get dressed and go to the store. He ran his hand through his damp hair on his way back up the stairs. Edward had a thick, black mop on top of his head. He knew it wasn’t a typical hairstyle, but he liked the way his long hair framed his thin face. He had to cut it very short when he enlisted, but he managed to grow it back to his favoured length once the war ended.

While he was rifling through his dresser, Edward realised how little amount of clothes he owned. The small selection only allowed him to choose from about three different outfits. He settled on a loose-fitting button-up long sleeve and a pair of black slacks. Not too flashy but at least he didn’t look homeless. Edward brushed his teeth and then he was out the door.

His dad's 1940 Cadillac was waiting for him outside his house. Edward didn’t technically pay for the car, his dad had paid for it and Edward was given it once his dad passed in 1942. He liked it though. It didn’t scream “I’m rich! Look at me!” But it was enough to make him look like he had some sort of wealth. (Which he didn’t.)

Before starting the car Edward stopped briefly to look at the morning sky. It was breathtaking. Edward always found comfort in looking at the sky. It was always there. No matter where he was the sky was there, with clouds dancing around its light blue surface. Wherever he was stationed, familiar or foreign, the sky always looked the same. (Unless it was raining but that’s beside the point.) And at night when the stars glistened and shone brightly above him, Edward could feel the anxiety slowly disappearing. He let out a content sigh and drove off.

The store was packed, most likely because of the frantic Christmas shoppers. Many women scrambled from shelf to shelf, making sure they got what they needed for the hefty Christmas dinner they were going to prepare. Edward’s mouth watered at the thought. Fat turkeys sitting in the center on the table, steamed vegetables, stuffing and various other dishes. Edward shook the thoughts from his mind, vaguely aware of the woman next to him who was giving him strange looks. Edward was used to this for the most part. He was a funny looking guy. Big framed glasses, wavy jet-black hair that made him look slightly feminine. He finished up his shopping and headed back home. 

“Yes Mother,” Edward chuckled into the telephone. It rested on a small, round side table next to a worn-down brown couch. “Yes Mother, I understand. Dad’s shop. Yes. Mother I love you. Goodbye, Mother.” Edward set the phone down and sighed loudly. His mother could be a pain sometimes, but she was older, Edward couldn’t blame her for asking for help. He lit a cigarette and placed it between his lips, taking a nice long drag. As he exhaled, Edward glanced out the window. The sun was starting to set. And boy was it beautiful. Pinks, purples, oranges and reds danced around the vast sky. Edward smiled so brightly the cigarette in his mouth almost fell out.

Before he slept Edward had to think about the offer his Mother made him earlier that day. She had told him about the drugstore her and Edward’s dad owned. When he passed, Edward’s Mother was the only one who ran it, and with her old age it was becoming more of a challenge for her. She offered Edward the store, along with the manager position. He’d be his own boss, but he’d have to hire at least one more worker, so not all the pay would go to him. All he had to do was be there from 07:30 to 20:00. The manager position had a wage of two dollars an hour. He decided on taking her offer, though it was too late to call her and tell her then.

Edward drifted off to sleep once again, well fed, happy and warm. And now he had a job. Things were looking up for him. 


End file.
